Forgotten (sequel to Empty)
by hybridbpv
Summary: The last girl Bond was with, he was hurt beyond repair. But she was different. If you guys have time and like it, please remember to favourite/follow/review. Your support is much appreciated (: Again, I do not own Bond. Some Bond/OC later on xx COMPLETED (10/12/12)
1. Fire Extinguisher

For those of you who haven't read _Empty_ yet, go check it out, or you would miss out on the story line in _Forgotten._

* * *

"What do you mean you don't remember? Your _name_." Bond stared her in the eyes.

"I… I don't really remember anything… apart from…" She whispered, shocked by the intensity of his glare.

"Apart from?" Bond started to really dig. He took out a recorder, turned it on and placed it on the table. "What do you remember?"

"The men… they," She drew in a long, pained breath. "They tied me up, on the pole, the other girls were right next to me. My hands - they were above my head. I wasn't tall enough. My arms…" She shuddered from the thought. "They felt like they were ripping from my body. There were cramps in my legs. I don't know how long I was left there."

Meanwhile, M was in yet another brutal interrogation.

"Tell me what you know and we'll stop the pain. You may even be able to walk again." An agent pulled on the knife sticking out of the man's bloody leg. His hands were tied behind his back, sweating, bleeding and obviously in agony.

The girl found herself in the shower, hot, steaming water pouring over her body. She traced a finger over the bruises and cuts. Nothing that won't heal in a couple of weeks. But it's the mental scarring, the psychological trauma, it was the shadow that lingered behind her that disturbed her the most.

Bond could not believe he agreed to do this. He was sitting on a stool, facing the door, while the girl was naked, showering behind him. She was awfully silent. The only sound in the room was droplets of water falling rapidly onto the tiles below. He had to admit the temptation to peek… there was a feeling… to familiar to him. He wished he could do something to comfort her. He closed his eyes to listen to the calming rhythm.

She savoured the feeling of water to her skin, the freshness could've been said to be long forgotten. By now, the skin on the tips of her fingers all crinkled, but she didn't give a damn. She allowed the water engulf her and closed her eyes. A jolt of pain. She shot her eyes open. Whenever she closed her eyes, she would remember the pain. She would remember how she was tied up, beaten, humiliated. How she was violated and tortured and broken. But she could no longer remember who she was. She turned off the tap.

James opened his eyes, surprised by the sudden silence, and by instinct, he turned around. On the girls body, there were marks and patterns spread all over her body. Beautiful colours of red and purple. But the story behind it wasn't. The marks were part of her pain, part of her memory when she was there. They made up the little that she remembered. The agent wasn't aware of how long he was staring. The girl was blushing furiously, frantically trying to cover her body with her hands. Bond instantly turned back around, mentally slapping himself._ You little shit._

"Um…" She croaked weakly. "Mister Bond… could you please pass me the towel?" It was obvious that she was entirely embarrassed.

"No problem. Sorry for staring…" Bond quickly made up an excuse. "I just wanted to work out what medical help I could give you." He mumbled as he handed over the towel. She wiped her hair and swiftly wrapped the towel around her body.

Bond didn't see the girl smiling silently. _This man is a good man. He didn't hurt you. He didn't shoot you. He offered you food and help. Try and help him do his job._ "Is there anything I can help with - I'll try to tell you what I remember…" She breathed softly…

The girl never ceased to amaze the agent. He could sense her movements behind him, and it took every last bit of his self control to stop himself from turning around again. He could not believe that she had just offered to help him. In the state she was in… _maybe she's just making fun of you._ Bond quickly dismissed the idea as he sighed. _Or maybe she's really that… good natured._ Bond instantly saw the problem. She could be the one to light his fire again. But he didn't want to - his extinguished state meant he could do his job. All his hard work - all the training, the physical build up, his mental preparation. Everything would go down the drain.


	2. Sentimental Vulnerability

Thank you for those of you who've reviewed both, Empty and Chapter 1. Your support and comments are most appreciated. Please enjoy some more (: xx

* * *

The girl walked silently along side Bond, keeping a close distance. Bond could sense her insecurity about HQ. Like him, she didn't trust anyone. _No, she trusts you._

"Here's your room. Sorry it's a bit simple. You'll have to stay here until we think it's safe." Bond murmured as he opened the door. She stepped into the dark room, and turned around, looking at him wide eyed.

"Y-you mean it's not safe?" There was clearly panic in her voice. It came out much more hoarse and vulnerable than she, or he, for that matter, had expected.

"No, no. I shouldn't have phrased it like that." He shook his head as he apologised. "I meant that we'll need to solve this case before we can let you go. Unfortunately, they aren't the only people out there." She gulped as he flicked a switch.

The room was small, Bond could travel from one end to another in three long strides. To the left hand corner, there was a single bed. White, clean covers, a soft, plump pillow, there were clothes neatly folded on top of the sheets. To the right, there was a chair and a small wooden table. The floor was covered in wooden boards. The agent was right - the room _was_ simple. But to the girl, it was already a sanctuary. Back there, she had slept, tied up, in a cupboard, in the most uncomfortable positions. She looked out of the double glazed window. The sky was dark - stars. She couldn't remember the last time she saw stars.

"Don't worry," Bond smiled at her once again, "You're in good hands. We'll keep you safe."

"But -"

"Hush now. Change and dry your hair, you'll catch a cold." _Bossy agent._ His phone beeped. He took a glance at the blinking screen. "I've been called to a meeting. I'll see you - "

"No." Her pupils dilated, "please… please don't go."

"You need sleep." Her small, thin hand reached up to clasp his muscular arm.

"Please." Her voice was small and desperate, tears threatening to stream down her clean face. "Don't leave me alone, Mr. Bond."

If Bond had thought that she was helpless. He'd be damned. The truth was, he didn't know how to handle it. There was too much emotion. He had avoided emotion for months now, it made things clear and straightforward. She brought it back to him. The look of exposure and vulnerability. Her heart. Like a lost kitten. She'd had things done to her, weakened and broken her. Bond thought he was prepared, that he was ready. Her voice was like a reality check. He was not prepared to handle this… _Sentiment._ The reason why she trusted him, and not anyone else, was because he was prepared to shoot her. He did nearly pull the trigger, he nearly killed her. But her cry for help, her cry of fear and despair, it stopped him from releasing that bullet. And because of that, she had put her trust in him.

"I'll stay with you for a while." He reached out to pat her head. She flinched, shutting her eyes tightly. Slowly, but surely, his fingertips came in contact with her soft, brown locks, intertwining between the damp hair. She opened her eyes to peek at him and leaned into his touch. Her facial expression softened. His gentle smirk reassured her that everything was okay now that she was here, _with him_. "Let me tuck you in, lay the towel on top of the pillow."

She did as she was told. His voice carried a toughness to it. It was different from… _them._ The cruel, sadistic men. It was a sort of control, a man with nerves of steel. It was nearly a command, but yet there was a tender side to it. It was an encouragement. She made her way to the bed and hopped on, and her body obviously loved the "softness" to the mattress. Now, to Bond, that was no where near comfortable. For him, it was like sleeping on a table. But for her, it felt like home. It felt like somewhere she could finally relax, put down all her troubles. Put down all her fear. The towel scratched her face every once in a while, but that didn't matter to her. Bond pulled up a chair beside her, gently looking down on her. Almost like a guardian angle.

Bond realised that her eyes would soon give way to her brain's much needed rest. He pulled the blanket towards her shoulders, lightly tucking it in at the sides. By now, she was far away, drifted off. Her face was completely relaxed, brows no longer furrowed, lips no longer pursed. Fear evaporated from her pores. She was no longer the lost, lonely, fearful child, but rather a quite gorgeous young lady. Now that she had been cleaned and fixed up, James took a closer look at her. Despite the faded marks on her cheeks, there was no doubt that she had a fantastic bone structure. High cheek bones and a clear, visible jawline. A refined chin, pouty lips with a curvy cupid's bow. Her nose was perfectly straight, leading up to a pair of large brown eyes. The dark lashes created a shadowy effect on her lids, her laid neatly across the t area. Her forehead… there was a large bump to the left of it, a light shade of purple. Small ears. Soft… really soothingly soft brown strands of hair running along the pillow.

A vibrate in his pocket disrupted his thoughts. _Ah yes… the meeting._ He gazed at the girl, deep in her sleep, he didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to. He couldn't resist touching her face, ever so lightly, smooth and warm. Silently, he stood, flicked off the lights and headed towards the conference room.


	3. Information

Sorry for the typos in the last chapter, I had a very late night yesterday ): Please review, if you so wish (: xx

* * *

M slid a file towards Bond's direction, every agent was eyeing him carefully when he entered the room. He was late. He was never late. And here he was - late. _What has he been doing?_

"How's the girl?" M asked.

"Sleeping." Bond answered cooly.

"But _how_ is she?" M asked again, emphasising each word.

"She doesn't remember." Bond shook his head.

"Remember where she was?" M tried to fill in the gaps.

"No, she doesn't remember who she is." M gaped at him for a while.

"Well," She cleared her throat, "we have some information about her."

"You do?" She grabbed Bond's attention almost immediately as he opened the file and flicked through the pages. "Natasha Hall." He murmured to himself.

"23, only started working at St. Bart's Hospital as a therapist a year ago. Reported missing eight months ago. Now we've found her."

"Only, as a different person." Bond sighed. "M, there's no use telling her what she doesn't remember. We know more about her than she does herself."

"What does she remember?"

"When she was in the organisation. What the men did to her." Bond growled and placed a tight fist on the table. He shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. "When are we taking her to the safe house?"

"After all the medical checkups and we know everything she knows."

"I _told _you." Bond raised his voice. "She doesn't know anything at all."

M was shocked by this sudden emotion surging out from_Bond._ It wasn't like him at all. He was _protecting _her._ This could be counted as progress._

"Well, try to dig in when she feels better. Hopefully she would've overheard some useful information."

"Yes, Ma'am. Are the assholes talking?" M shook her head. "Have you considered - "

"I know you can make them spill, James, but I want you - "

"To have a heart?" M swallowed. "M, you know that I perform better when - "

"I know." There was a long, uncomfortable silence. "I want you back. I know you're not soul-less. You just… need some time to piece together the fragments." They both looked around the room, knowing it would be better to have the discussion in private.

"Later, then." Bond nodded and turned away, grabbing the file.

"Are you not going to join us for the rest of the information?" M called after him. Bond continued walking to the door.

"No, you probably don't want me here anyways." Bond closed the door.

There were two reasons he needed to get away. He needed to re-consider M's offer. Take some time off. But he'd lose his edge. The second reason somewhat scared him. He wanted to go back to the girl. _No, she has a name, her name is Natasha Hall._


	4. Nightmares

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! I don't know what you guys like, or what you don't. I want to make it enjoyable to EVERYBODY, so please, help me do this by writing a short review, it won't take long, I promise (: xx

* * *

A dull noise was emitted from Natasha's room. Bond was at least fifteen feet away in the corridors. He picked up the pace and opened the door. Natasha was thrashing on her bed, she'd probably swept the chair down with her flailing arms. Beads of sweat ran across her forehead, she gasped and arched her back. Her expression was somewhat similar to horror, but it morphed into pain.

"Hey." Bond shook her on the shoulders as he picked up the chair. "Hey! Wake up." She gasped hoarsely and blinked at Bond, a tear ran down her cheek.

"No, no!" She began to struggle against his arms while he sat. "Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me." Her fist came in contact with his chest, producing a faint thud.

"Sh, sh, sh. Hush now, it's okay, it's me." He cooed as he brought his hand up to her hair, stroking, caressing her face, brushing an errant strand behind her ear. Her heaving chest began to slow down and she stopped resisting his touch. She rested her head against his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. Bond closed his eyes and savoured her hot skin against him.

"You left, you left…" she said between breaths.

"I'm sorry, I was called to a meeting. Did you have a nightmare?" She nodded. "Can you tell me?"

"It was the men. The pain. Everything there." As she muttered each word, her breathing quickened again.

"I see." She brought her small hand up to his chest, moving herself so she was closer to him. "Your hands are freezing."

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"What if you leave again, what if you leave me here and they find me? What if they find me, and don't kill me?" Her knees curled up to her chest.

"They won't, I promise. I'll take care of them myself." He growled. He felt her shiver. "Are you cold?" She shook her head gently.

"You're angry." Her voice trembled ever so slightly. "Please don't hurt me." Bond brought both her hands together and pushed her gently to the side so both he and she sat on the bed. He stared at her, softening his expressions. His finger grazed her knuckles as he stroked her hand.

"Look at me." She opened her bloodshot eyes. "I swear I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" She nodded. "Good girl. Now go wash your face."

"Please come with me?" Bond nodded reassuringly. Seeing her writhe in bed was absolutely heartbreaking. The sounds coming out of her throat was a primal call for help, it was a shriek, she was begging for someone to save her. The pain on her face made it utterly clear, she was so damaged and devastated. He knew the feeling of pain lurking around, the persisting misery. And he knew that it was all in the mind.

As she walked, barefoot freezing on the tiles, she heard footsteps and gripped Bond's arm tightly. M wanted to check up on Natasha, Mitchell by her side, making her way to her room, she sees both Bond and the girl. She was taken by surprise when she nodded to Bond. _He's here after hours - that's a first. _She mentally noted.

"M, Mitchell." Bond nodded back.

"How are you?" She turned her attention to the girl.

"I-I'm good, Ma'am." Bond gave her a small chuckle.

"I'm glad the clothes fit." Natasha glanced nervously and Mitchell.

"He's not going to hurt you." Bond whispered in her ear. She relaxes a tiny bit. M gave Bond a look. "The bathroom's just to the left here, I'll be there in a moment." She looked back and he smiled at her as she turned, walking forwards. They heard the bathroom door closed.

"I hope you're going easy on her." M sighed. "After all, she's had horrible things done to her."

"Are they talking?" Bond ignored her remark and ran a hand through his short blond hair.

"The only thing they've said is; go to hell, bitch." Bond snickered.

"Well, tell me if you need me."

"Bond, I think it's good for you to spend some time with her."

"You know that I do a better job as I am."

"She'll shape you into a better person." By now, M had all the confirmation she needed. The way he smiled at her, gave her subtle touches, let her grab his arm. He was much more gentle, much more _human_. Bond was right. He _was _better at the job as he was now, but in a way, it scared her. She thought she'd lost the little boy she'd brought back, turned him into an insane, cold freak. But the way he acted when Natasha was there, it was the final proof of the existence of his soul.

"I better get back to her." Bond said, breaking the silence. He knew that M was thinking. He never liked it when M was thinking.

"Bond…" M called after the agent. "I'm appointing you to accompany her in the safe house."

"You know I'm more useful front line." Bond hissed.

"It's an order." M grinned.

"Good evening." Bond nodded to both of them as he walked towards the bathroom.

Before entering, Bond knocked lightly on the door. After all, it was only polite. The girl had submerged her face in the sink and lifted her head when she head the knock. He handed her a towel and she gladly took it.

"Feeling better?" James asked.

"Mhm." the girl said, drying her face.

"I, um." Bond tried to phrase his sentences. "I've been appointed to take care of you as long as you need." She suddenly looked at him, a mixture of joy and relief on her face. "I assume you're okay with that." She nodded. "Well, you should thank M, the, uh, women earlier in the corridor." The girl took a mental note. "I have some information for you, do you want to go back to your room or the interview room?"

"Bedroom?" She looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Bedroom it is, then." Bond held the door open with his back, holding out an arm to motion for her to lead the way.


	5. Pressure Point

Thank you for those who reviewed! This will be the last chapter of "Forgotten." And I will shortly be beginning the sequel for it. Stay tuned for more, and thank you all for your support. xx

* * *

Bond sat silently, side by side with the girl on the bed. He reminded himself that she still didn't know who she was. He cleared his throat.

"If I told you that I knew who you were, would you trust me?" She nodded.

"I trust you." Bond gave her a small smile.

"Do you want to know?" She pondered for a minute before answering,

"Was I a good person?" Bond gaped blankly as she waited. _Is that the only thing on her mind right now? Not family, not friends, but whether she was a good person…_ "It-It's important to me." She answered his question like she could read his mind.

"You did a lot of good work towards the community." She smiled weakly. "MI6, our organisation, we could make a new identity for you, you could live a new life."

"That's very liberating, isn't it?" She half-smiled, half-frowned.

"Yes, it would be."

"What was my name?"

"Natasha. Natasha Hall." She mouthed the words silently, as if to test the feeling.

"Anything else you know?"

"You've just graduated from Veterinary school at King's and you're doing an intern in London Veterinary Clinic. You're 23. Um…" He paused to look at her for a moment.

"What is it?" She sounded nervous. _Shit, should I tell her?_

"It says here," he flips the page and flips back, "that, well, um, your parents are dead." She gulped. "You do a lot of work with children and animals, though. You're very liked."

"Where do I live?" She said, twiddling her thumbs.

"The. Um. How should I phrase this. Eight months ago, you were kidnapped. We're not sure how, and I'm assuming you don't remember." She shook her head slightly. "Well, the men, they went back and went through your building and, um." He took a long breath. "They set the building on fire."

Both her hands shot up, covering her gaping mouth. Tears started forming in the corners of her eyes as she brought her knees close to her chest and hugged them. "… because of me?" She started sobbing and shaking her head. "No, no, no."

Bond shifted his position, putting an arm around her shoulder and leaning her head against his. "It's not your fault."

"Did anyone get hurt?" He froze. He didn't know how to explain to her, that the organisation made a mistake, it wasn't supposed to be her.

"A few," Bond sighed. "Look, I know how this sounds, but they made a mistake. Those idiots mistook a plane departure for a coordinate, and most unfortunately that lead them to you." He stroked her arm lightly. "Natasha, you saved more than a hundred people's lives. I know it's not right for you to suffer, and trust me, I _will_ make those arseholes pay the price." Natasha shivered once again.

"Are you going to hurt them?" She placed a hand on his lap and turned to face him. "Mr. Bond, please don't hurt them. It's not nice."

"I'm not actually going to abuse them, then. Natasha, it's amazing how forgiving you are. There are better ways to hurt them." She shivered and shut her eyes, her muscles visibly tensing. "What, what is it?"

"That's what they said to me. They said _there are better ways to hurt a girl, for example;_" Her hands balled up into tight fists. "They - when I was tied up, they kicked me around, they beat me. And then they said that. They pushed on my pressure points." Bond felt his blood boil.

"Is this what they did?" He held her arm gently, inspecting the bruises on the inside of her elbow. She nodded. "Before I forget, I need to go get a medical kit. I'll be right back." He stood and patted her on the head lightly. "And, oh. Natasha, you can call me James."


End file.
